


SINLESS

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: POST-WAR. VOLDEMORT WINS AU.--Eight years after Harry Potter had died and the Dark Lord had won the war, Athena goes back to Hogwarts for her 7th year after she spent her summer in the camp for Half-bloods and Muggle-borns. What happens when the Dark Lord applies a new rule and hires a new teacher?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1





	SINLESS

**There are nights when she prays for death.**

The August morning was bright, casting the pigeons into dark shadows against a sky of palest blue, yellow sunlight streaming over the mountains so light that its creator could only be divine.

At least that is what it seemed like— there was nothing more than darkness for Athena, the type of darkness that occurs in a complete solar eclipse, leaving her in the silence of serenity as she was stuck in a nightmare.

As if petrified, her body refused to move as the nightmares took over. Memories of their bodies being chained, being locked in a wooden coffin, their minds anything but free— every single body in a cage for a spirit you cannot touch— invaded her mind. Every cell in her body was screaming for oxygen, but no sounds came from her throat, struggling to get air into her lungs as those hunted eyes lingered on hers, and shadows had wrapped their way around her throat.

The feeling of this nightmare was dark; no, it was _dangerous_.

Athena threw herself awake, her brown hues peeling open in a cloud of foggy unconsciousness as she gasped for a breath of air, waking up for the fifth time from her restless night terror. She couldn't seem to breathe properly; it felt as if someone was choking her with suffocating darkness, and her airway was blocked as she was lying flat on her back on the cold floor, covered with a blanket, wearing no underwear as instructed. The stone underneath her body was cold and keen, chilling her bare skin and leaving its mark in the form of goosebumps along her arms as she was shivering in the awful thin rags she was wearing.

Most people wake up to the sound of birds singing the mellifluous songs as their soul take on the sun's lightness. Athena her eyes didn't greet the daylight as she woke up with sweat glazing the surface of her skin, her hair sticking to it, and her baggy t-shirt pierced with holes, stained with blood and sweat, enough to fill an entire bottle. Her eyes opened, and she saw nothing at all; the only evidence of her being was the cold air in her lungs and the throbbing pain in her head that unpleasantly greeted Athena as if it had been nailed there.

It had been eight weeks since she had last seen the morning sun and last heard the birds singing melodic music in a way that hydrates the dry soul. The last time she saw the halo of the horizon arrive with golden grace, smiling upward at black heavens in flames of bright orange and gold.

She just wanted to sleep. A coma would be nice, she thought. She would do anything to get rid of these nightmares and whispers that eat away the neurons in her mind. Athena had tried to block what happened there out of her memory. But even now, weeks later, she woke up in a cold sweat. Was this her fate? Suffering like this, afraid to now sleep, fearful that the terror would resume if her eyelids fell shut, afraid to rest her mind, afraid of her memories?

Fate was unfair and cruel— cruel to those who were good.

It took a while, but she managed to tranquillise the horror lingering in her mind from the nightmare, and after a few deep breaths, moment by moment, Athena's brain slowly reached its senses and caught up with her. Her eyes glazed the atmosphere studying the place surrounding her whole as the heat that clouded her eyes began to subside, clearing her vision inch by inch.

Then, mostly empty, Athena's eyes travelled along the four stone walls that surrounded her, covered in grime and soil. Upon the walls were written in stone the words ''help'', ''fear'' and ''deserved''. There was nothing else to do but stare at the words or look at the paint gouged off ever so slightly by the former inhabitants. The walls were thick, and no way of escaping— there was only one way in and out that was sealed with magic, no windows, no escape. Her sleeping place was in the corner, besides a creaking wooden nightstand, strong enough to hold a tray of food.

She would have no idea how much time had passed. She would only know when it was daylight by the little light that penetrated through the small crack beneath the door, and at night the only notion of brightness would come from a full moon and the earthbound stars with halos of midnight blue, and even those lights were a chilled silver beam and a symbol of their despair.

No matter the weather outside, the floor would always be freezing, the air never leaving a frozen and wet state with a musty and lifeless smell lingering around. But it wouldn't even matter; they would shiver no matter if it were warm or cold, day and night just blended into one another, and all the time, they shivered. Her teeth would rattle in the cold, trying to feel her lips by pressing them together, but she didn't feel anything; they became numb in the constant cold, the same as her fingers that were a soft colour of violet, went numb from the cold.

The only sounds other than heavy breathing and grumbling stomachs, echoing round and round the walls of the darkroom until it faded into nothing, were the sounds of blood-curdling screams from the torture rooms that lashed out in the cold, blemishing the sky in a horrendous, fatal scarlet. The screams were a scalding cry for mercy, begging them to stop with despair as the children were beaten with an iron stick for hours, leaving their skin to feel fragile by the whip.

☽

Dragging the damp blanket off her legs, Athena made her way to the small bathing place in the darkroom, sighing as she examined herself in the bathroom mirror; hating the deep bags that embedded underneath her eyes. Her eyes that once contained the warmth of an eternal hearth looked like they had sunk into dark hollows of no soul like you are looking into an endless stretch of the midnight sky. Her brown hues had a red rim surrounding its pupil, probably due to the invasion of sweat, and her pink lips were cracked. Her rosy red cheeks were sunken, and her raven hair was unkempt and cascaded messily down her back. Looking at her skin that had been broken so many times by a whip, scars decorated the pale skin that covered her body, hovering over her as a constant reminder of the status of her blood. Her lack of worth. A sickly pale hue had taken over her once warm and pinkish flesh, painting it a colour of grey.

She reminded her of her father, and she hated it. She hated how she reminded her mother of the man and hated how she no longer could recognise herself as the girl she was mere months before— she would be more cautious, less trusting of anyone, and more fearful. She could tell she was losing herself, and the girl she once was, was almost gone— this was the image of someone else, a victim that experienced assault, terror, and murder.

She had become the Athena that was broken beyond repair.

It was like all of her sunshine had been stolen by the men in the sinister camp. There was a time where Athena was full of positivity, and light seeped through her. But since the war, after the months of terror endured, she had become withdrawn with a wounded soul and was locked tight in a cage of fear of what the future would bring her.

Her inner light was taking away from her every day just a little more and replaced with darkness. This wasn't a kind of darkness that helps the orange and gold blossom across the sky— it was that kind of darkness like the hot dark of embers. The darkness that kisses up to your skin and robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralysing fear.

It was all too dystopian, a sinister summer camp for pureblooded pleasure. The camp was an emotional tornado that ruined lives yet to be called into existence.

Every Half-blood and Muggle-born was forced to attend the summer camp of horrors, though those born of Muggles weren't half as lucky as the Half-bloods.

At least Half-bloods made it out alive; Muggle-borns were executed publicly in the camp.

You might think, why didn't the Muggle-Borns fled? Most Muggle-borns had fled after the war only to be hunted down like prey by this group of Death Eaters and were taken to the camp of horrors. What was once just hate towards Muggle-borns transformed into more a destructive and strong army of Death Eaters that wanted to destroy all those who contaminated the Wizarding bloodlines.

Although she hated to admit it, she wished she was a pureblood in this situation; she wouldn't be here getting tortured in a camp; she could go a day without feeling the physical pain. God, how she hoped she could be free for one day.

That's all they could ever do, _hope._

A prayer of hope that one day, a miracle would be bestowed upon the world, and she would be able to breathe with ease again without shadows squeezing her lungs tight— Maybe in another time and a parallel universe, she would be simply a girl that is free. Yet she was locked away from freedom, a prisoner of the dark.

Looking down on her neck, evident marks could be seen, courtesy of her father's steel blade as it cut through her soft skin. Her fingers grimly traced the outline of the deep cut, flinching by the mere thought of the action. She despised him. With all the bones in her body, she loathed his entire being. Knowing that his sickening hands were the ones to leave the marks already reminded her of her purpose. She would forever be marked by his scar that fueled her self-hatred.

Before she could stop herself, Athena punched the mirror with all her might, though with her weak bones, only hard enough for a few pieces to crack and fall, and small amounts of glass fell between the cracks of the floor.

A tiny piece of one of the shards landed in front of her. She picked up the piece of broken glass from the mirror, her fingers fumbling with it as she was examining it intently while smiling to herself once she became aware of how she intended to use it.

_She smiled._

She had always thought of suicide being the weakest death; that's what they told her here. Only weak people would commit suicide, too afraid to accept their worth. She hated how powerless she felt— how weak. And her brain was telling her how disgusting and worthless she was for putting her own peace first. Perhaps it was the quiet, the hollowness, of the past few months— maybe it was regret, and perhaps the shame, that coated her tongue and bones, that made her question that thought.

_Just do it._

Dragging the sharpest point of the shard across the skin on her wrist lightly, a small amount of blood began to ooze from the cut. The dark pool on the ground grew wider and wider, blood dripping from her skinned arms over her fingertips, as she pushed it down harder till it pierced deep into her skin. Every time she crunched her teeth over her lip harder than the last time, salty blood filling her mouth.

_Push it deeper into your flesh._

Athena squeezed her eyes shut as she fought with the voice inside her head, trying to distract herself with thoughts. At the back of her mind were the memories that all rushed back to her of someone killing her mother, harming her friends, destroying her home. If she ended up dead, her mother would end up dead too. Punishment would be served on their families if they tried to rid themselves of the world, leading to their family's torture or death. So she didn't push hard enough in her skin.

And yet, for a second, she questioned herself, wondering what the point of it was— her mother might be dead already without her knowing.

A heavy feeling settled in her chest as an instantaneous feeling of bone-crushing guilt flooded her stomach, reminding her of the severe punishment that would come with her thoughtless decision. She had to keep her wits together, to stay strong for her mother and herself.

She couldn't prioritise herself in this situation.

_Never._

☽

She didn't know for how long she sat there, knees pulled up to her chest, picking at the clotted blood of her knuckles, and eyes closed as her body trembled violently, unsure whether it was from the ravenous hunger or the constant fear and dread that haunted her and leaked through her veins.

She had been in that limp, seemingly lifeless position for hours when her ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps echoing down the concrete walls. The darkroom door swung open, a cold breeze flew in through the door, kissing its way across her bare legs.

Before she registered what was happening, Athena was forced out of her cell, fear crawling up her spine with her eyes widened and frightened— screaming without words. A callused hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her scream as she was dragged backwards out of her cell. Her chest was hammering with the racing pulse of her heart when stripped from the oversized white t-shirt pierced with holes that barely covered her thigh as she now stood bare and vulnerable in front of a man in the darkroom, leaving her skeletal bones exposed and raw.

Stubble covered the man his ragged chin, greasy and short black hair to match. Several scars occupied his ominous face, with menacing black eyes and a sinister smirk playing on his face as he so openly looked forward to putting his hands on the fragile girl in front of him, not to take care of her, no kindness, no compassion in his touch— only cold maliciousness.

With a forceful push, Athena fell to the cold concrete like a flick of dust, her spine colliding with the ground, scraping her knees and chin on the solid floor as her breath was knocked out of her. Trying to keep herself from screaming, she bit the inside of her cheeks hard enough to taste the iron of blood that coated her tongue as his coarse whiskey tongue licked all over her damaged skin. Bile threatened to move up her throat when he groaned as his fingernails forcefully and painfully dug into her core.

''It's been a while since we used you,'' he voiced with a sinister smile displayed on his face. ''Skin as thin as paper, flesh that is two sizes too small and bones that are too easy to crack.''

A leather whip started to continuously hit her tender flesh, making her bite down on the lush pink flesh of her bottom lip to keep her whimpers, a drop of blood drew from her broken lip, not wishing to give the satisfaction of her cries.

Raindrops poured down in patterns, heavy and relentless, covering up the cruel sounds of the whip hitting against her skin with a ferocious force.

She tried to block the sound of her bones cracking, thinking about anything, anything but the pain that exploded within her; A starry unclouded night sky with the strength of midnight blue whispering to her heart so brilliant that it drew the eyes heaven bound. The way leaves would move in the summer breeze with that warming sense of nurture and sun rays. A refreshing shower at home.

Yet, the sickening smack of the leather whip against her fragile flesh was enough for her thoughts to disperse, the sound ringing in her ears.

Just as she thought a breath of fresh air would be granted her lungs, a force stronger than expected struck her jaw as his heavy army boot printed her skin. A heavy crack overpowered the sound the weather gave, dribbles of more crimson red flew out her mouth and leaked from her fractured nose. No strength would've given her enough energy to feel the dislocated jaw, almost falling unconscious in the pitch-black as a fierce and deep-reaching pain spread through her entire body and pushed a sting of fire in the form of water into her eyes.

She prepared herself for the next devasting blow when the whip stopped—

—the sound of a zipper made her blood run cold, and her body filled with the need to fight it, though she knew it to be of no use.

Her previous feeling of pain transitioned into one of pure shock and horror.

Clenching her teeth together, she tried to hold back the disgusting sob threatening to come out of her as she felt her eyes burn with the essence of tears, hating that she's was showing any sign of weakness.

Every time she dared move, he would bash her head back onto the concrete, demanding to lay still as she felt his fingernails rip through her tender flesh. She wanted to do as he told to make the pain more bearable, but it was physically impossible to lay still as her whole body quivered in fear. Anger would leave the man without control, making him smash her head back onto the concrete until sticky liquid oozed from the back of her head onto the cold floor as she soaked in her own blood, the stench of blood revolting.

At one point, he had enough of it; he slammed his hands against her mouth, barely giving her nostrils space for air. She could only smell the scent of cadaverine and putrescine— _a perfume of a dead body._

Her expressionless face was all that reflected in the muddy puddle below that covered the floor of the cell, tainted with drops of crimson red as blood continued to flow endlessly down her back, gushing from the newly reopened wounds of the past few weeks, collecting in puddles under her knees.

A forceful thrust made thoughts of death seem all the more pleasant, feeling him rip through her with no nurse for her feelings. Athena withered in pure agony as he moved, groans of pleasure and mock emitting from the revolting man on top of her while he thrust back and forth. Throbbing pain jolted through her, from the lack of his empathy, the repulsive deed he coerced on her, and feeling her sanity slowly slipping by each second passing.

She was helpless, and prayers echoed in her mind, begging death to take her.

The man gave heavy breaths while a load groan slipped from his mouth, and relief flooded her senses when he finally pulled out.

Black eyes glinted with power and satisfaction as he observed the beads of crimson red running down her pale, creamy skin, a maniacal expression playing on his face.

"We had a fun time, didn't we? Although, it would've been better if you kept your mouth completely shut. See you next year, pathetic halfbreed— if you're not dead already." His hoarse voice whispered in her ear before he dropped his bruising grip from her jaw as he stood up, towering over her weak body.

Lifted by the arms, Athena's half-naked body was roughly thrown back onto the dust-laden ground in the cellar, only the rags of the t-shirt to cover her bruised skin. The metal door slammed shut, echoing through the darkroom, locking her up, but not before the ruthless men threw one last disgusting glance her way. She returned it, showing two rows of blood-smeared teeth.

They vigorously took girls to ruin, claimed their bodies as their pleasure to remind them of their lack of worth, leaving them naked in shame, and dirtying them with their shameless behaviour— they would eat their flesh and burn them with fire, tearing the delicate strings of their purity.

The moment he was gone, Athena grasped her stomach in an effort to stop the pain. She was feeling paralysed in utter fear and helplessness. She wanted to scream, scream for release, but she forgot how to scream due to the cruel punishment she would earn if they didn't go unanswered— screaming was forbidden. Her tongue became thick and heavy, and her throat unusually hoarse as if she just drank liquid fire.

So, she gave nothing more than a whimper.

Even after forcing himself upon her, she would still smell the scent of his foul semen and sweat, with no source of either. Athena almost threw up from the smell of it, which was wafting into her nostrils. She had to physically squeeze her fist to stop herself from throwing up when bile sting in her throat and the acidic, sour taste of vomit coated her tastebuds.

She could still feel his breath on the back of her neck, just as humid, unwanted as it was. The look in his starving eyes glazing over with feral lust, fingers gripping her tender flesh, leaving bruises shaped like his desire, never left her mind.

She never forgot _anything._

It had unsettled her— more than that. The whole thing had been so gruesome she finally did puke her guts out— throwing up the last bit of hope with her. She flung herself across the darkroom, pulling her cellmate, Arabella, with her. Arabella jumped out of the way, grabbing Athena's hand and rubbing her back with her other hand while Athena hugged the toilet's cool porcelain. Black spots danced in her vision as she continued to gag even when there was nothing there, and she was running empty. When she was done, she eased herself off the toilet, and her body slumped and fell back against Arabella her side, puke drying on her chin.

It was almost like her body had given up on her.

Her vision quickly blurred as trails of salty tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks in hot rivers, the briny tang of tears coating her mouth as a sob ripped her lungs. She was crying silent tears, her arms furiously rubbing against her face to wipe the hot tears that ran past her red cheeks over her knuckles until finally dripping onto the floor.

Her body was covered in red marks and bruises that were a blending colour of red and dark purple, small beads of blood rolling from the rips he made when his nails dug into her with force. The wound on the back of her head stung while she felt the blood begin to dry, smudging the sides of her temple. Although it wasn't the wound of her flesh that concerned her, there were spells to fix that. The wound would heal fast, yet the injury to her brain, the way she sees the world and perceives others, would forever be tainted— that wasn't just another flesh wound to match her scars.

She wasn't the only one who had been raped; her mind got raped too—

Her thoughts had been tormenting her for too long, speaking to her, drilling through her skull, telling her that she was disgusting day in and day out. She felt nothing but repulsion towards herself. Ironic, isn't it? The one who raped doesn't even feel a pinch of guilt, but the one who got raped is slowly losing her sanity, self-worth and esteem.

So she lay there, limp and fighting to breathe, convulsing with the aftershocks.

Wincing, she unscrewed her eyes, inhaling sharply when a blanket was draped over her, wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Tears of anguish and understanding fell from Arabella her cheeks onto Athena her face as she was hovering over her body with concern etched into her deformed face as her flowing blonde ringlets fell over her face.

Arabella was the girl Athena shared the darkroom with, shared the cries and the aftermath of her terrors with. Arabella had become her safe haven, a shoulder to cry on, arms to be held in times of agony and need.

Everyone in the camp went through several punishments. The same goes for Arabella; One time, they placed her finger between a vise as it was tightened until thick and strong blood flew out of the ripped flesh of her finger. Eventually, her finger fell off as the vise clasped it.

Her friend's face was pale with worry, but she knew that there was nothing to do about it. ''I-I'm sorry—'' Arabella stammered, jaw shaking violently like she was standing in the midst of a storm. Another tear fell from her fearful eye, ''—I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. It should have been me, not y—.''

''I'll be okay, Ara, don't worry about me.'' Athena lied through clenched teeth; she was just saying it more to convince herself— which Arabella had caught onto. And she knew Athena was lying— from merely seeing her fingers tremble, she knew she was lying, but she decided not to push it. She knew Athena needed a few more moments to come to her senses, so she only pressed a small kiss on Athena's cheek, whispering shooting words to comfort Athena while holding her in a tight embrace, crushing her against her ribs.

''you're so brave, Athena. If you weren't here with me, I don't think I would've survived this long. I'm here for you, okay? I won't let you destroy yourself on my watch. So please stay with me, Athena, everything will be alright, one day.'' The undercurrent of concern hones in Arabella her words. Athena just stared at her as her face was screwed up in agony, and dry blood flaked off her scar-covered skin.

Athena couldn't seem to find the motivation to continue to keep fighting. Arabella could only think how dare she? How dare she give up so easily? But she didn't understand her; yes, Arabella lost her finger, but after that happened, Athena made sure nothing else happened to her and always took her place. Athena would feel this rock sink into the pit of her stomach at the mere thought of someone touching Arabella. So she had never been sexually assaulted— Athena made sure of that.

☽

Athena sat there in silence for the next few minutes while Arabella wet her blanket to take care of the wounds that covered Athena's body, careful not to press too hard against the open flesh wounds. Athena slightly winced at the pain that jolted through her, as if some invisible flame were held against her skin when Arabella touched her wounds.

Compared to most girls in the camp, Arabella still had some curves on her body. On the other hand, Athena had drastically lost all her weight this summer, and her curves, almost as if she were a walking skeleton. She wasn't just thin; she was scary thin— like a stick figure, her bones jutted out, leaving clear evidence of her starvation for all eyes to see.

Once a day, a tray consisting of moulded bread, mushy boiled vegetables, and dusty mashed potatoes would be pushed through the small gap underneath the steel door. Most foods were inedible beyond forcible eating, tasting like sand and ash on their tongue, though a choice could not be found if wanting to be alive. All they craved was a feeling of home, though, at this point, anything considered half a good meal would give them some sort of comfort. Athena gave her food to Arabella nearly every time; she could barely hold the bile threatening to rasp up her throat by the small portion given.

She got slumped out of her thoughts as the throbbing pain in her temple worsened, and Arabella spoke up.

''Here takes this. It will speed up the healing process. I won't need it anymore; we're going back to Hogwarts anyways'' Her voice broke, handing over the small, fragile vial with a clear liquid.

Cool against her fingers, the liquid looked inviting, the muted colours begging for her to take a sip of its revelations. Popping open the crock screw, she pushed the frail brim to her rosy lips, letting the cooling liquid flow down her throat, the taste of bitterness coating her tongue. A feeling of pain coursed through her as the skin began to sew back together and blood trailed back in before realisation hit her, and Athena's heart sank within her chest—

Today was the day.

The day she got to leave this horrendous place to go to another dreadful place, Hogwarts.

But somehow, this time, it felt different to leave, more afraid of what to come. Whispers went through the camp about a new rule and a new teacher. Nothing good could come from that, knowing how ruthless death eaters were, knowing how unworthy and belittled they always got reminded they were by them.

A shiver ran down Athena's spine by the thought of leaving hell, only to be doomed with another form of the same place.

At least the days of starvation, beatings, and endless nights of chill seeping into the scratchiness of her shredded blanket would be over, she thought.

Still, questions started ringing through her head, and a million thoughts dashed operating through a denounced contumacious brain.

_"What is this new rule?''_

_''Who is the new teacher?''_

_'''Will we be dead before we can even graduate?''_

Only if she knew what was to come she would've pushed the piece of broken glass harder into her skin until the nasty wound would slowly eat her heart, the presence of her soul dissipating into dust, ebbing onto the late morning.


End file.
